


closer, once again

by kinpika



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week, Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: McGenji Week 2016Day One Prompt: TouchGenji’s fingers barely register in the flat of his hand, a sliding touch to his wrist, where his pulse might have been once.





	

It should not surprise McCree what scene he finds before him when he walks into their makeshift housing. Considering who he had been saddled with, as it were, the sight of D.Va and her mecha curled up on the floor, watching some movie, was the unsurprising part. An almost common occurrence, no matter where they were. And especially how deeply south things were going, McCree wasn’t going to deny her some form of escape, no matter what it was. There were voices in his head, that sounded vaguely like old COs, saying there were times and places, but times had changed, and he was in the place to be calling all the shots. 

What got McCree so well was how Genji sat atop the mecha’s head (could he consider it a head?), seemingly interested in what D.Va had playing. At least, he assumed that Genji was watching too. The casual calm in Genji was almost too real, and McCree had gotten good at reading any signs from their resident cyborg ninja to suggest anything otherwise. Had it not been for the way Genji’s head tilted ever so slightly, McCree almost assumed he was invisible to the pair. Light reflecting off Genji’s visor gave him away, but McCree continued to stand.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, from his position in the doorway he watched the two of them. For her part, D.Va seemed completely interested in whatever was playing, but that feeling McCree had about being seen was turning out to be true. That sheer awareness from the other man was somewhat terrifying, still. Even after all these years, it still reminded McCree too much of being nearly thirty years younger, and angry and excited all at once. Surely, he could say something, about how Genji reminded him of the better parts of his younger life, but that could wait.

Especially when Genji unfolded himself, far too graceful, more than enough to distract someone from the slight whirrs and whispers of mechaanics and machines. McCree could hear it all in the back of his head, as Genji drew closer still. He could attest it to spending perhaps too much time closer than simply for comfort, but he extended his left arm anyway, palm facing upwards. Genji’s fingers barely register in the flat of his hand, a sliding touch to his wrist, where his pulse might have been once. Always his left hand, and McCree misses when they used to zap, technology interacting for the first time. That was the first and only time he had managed to get the jump on Genji, and McCree vowed he wouldn’t forget.

“Hana found us a movie to watch. You are in it.”

McCree splits the sentences into two definite things, able to be discerned and digested. A memory resurfaces, of D.Va insisting on being called ‘Hana’, especially by those she considered her friends. It was touching and heartwarming, but definitely something that had a lot of them stumble over even months down the road. Yet D.Va — _Hana_ , he adjusted — was understanding. At least he thought so. Maybe she understood that there was more going on to them all having to join together once again, years worth of animosity sometimes exploding. Names were a personal matter many simply overlooked or ignored for the sake of saving oneself. Memories were associated with names and titles. (Genji’s fingers fluttered over his palm, a simple _clicking_ against metal, as if he understood)

But the second part caught his attention and trapped it, just as they both knew it would. “Me? Well, I’ll be damned. You found out about how I moonlighted as an actor that one time.”

Genji’s laugh is not wholly mechaanic, contrary to popular belief. Despite the tinny undertones, the warmth is still entirely human, and McCree feels it assail his nerves, setting off little reactions inside of him that were getting the better of him as each day passed. Even if Genji liked to hand wave the effect he had on McCree as little more than nothing of worth, that edge always hidden under words that dismissed claims, McCree hoped Genji knew exactly what he did to him.

“Come see.”

Linking their fingers, as they step back into the room, Genji takes a few short steps — more like _leaps_ — across the room, until he drops to a kneel on the opposite side of the screen. McCree is slower, claiming he was getting old, much to the amusement of Hana, and lowers himself beside Genji. Waits as Hana fiddles with something or other, turning the sound up a little more, and there’s gunfire and witty repartee. Despite the flattery of being associated with something considered a classic, McCree didn’t quite understand what they were hinting towards.

Until he saw who they were talking about.

“Seriously, _him_?!” Incredulously, McCree watches as both Genji and Hana, at the same time, point to the cowboy they were talking about.

“It’s you, Jesse.”

“See? I _told_ you it was him!”

Hana freezes the film, zooming in and drawing it up, until McCree could only see the face of a very unimpressed man. Blinking slowly, McCree turns to Genji, raising his brows. “This isn’t me.”

“Of course it is!” Hana practically caws, and she’s pulling free from her mecha now, kneeling on the other side of McCree. Her finger presses against his cheek, as if trying to adjust the skin a little. Despite the rise of amusement in him, McCree does his best to look put out, as Genji seems to do the same, thumb and forefinger pinching his eyebrows closer together.

“Just like this,” he says, a little too closely to McCree’s face. If he concentrates, McCree can almost see through the visor, and imagine Genji’s eyes crinkling in amusement, just as they always did when he was genuinely enjoying himself. It was then that McCree supposed would let them this have this moment, even if he wouldn’t live it down for a while later.

“I’m sure he looks more like this.” Twisting up his nose, and fishing through his vest for another cigar, McCree did his best impression of the cowboy’s expression on the screen, which had Hana scrambling to take a photo. Genji was quiet happiness beside him, a head tilt against the shoulder accompanied by a hand finding McCree’s own, as Hana stole his hat and sat on the other side.

McCree was laughing as they took several, full belly laughs, head thrown back as Hana asks for his best impression, before trying to impersonate him. COs in the back of his head tell him he’s being a fool, being far too casual about the situation they were in, but Hana looked better than she had in days, as if she needed a good laugh, even if it was at McCree’s expense. Sliding a look over to Genji, he had to wonder if this was all planned, as if Genji had known. Formulating something to make one, or both, or maybe all three, of them feel better about the situation they were in. 

When Hana departs quickly, something or other leaving her that doesn’t quite meet in their common language, McCree catches Genji before he could escape. “ _Old_ western films, huh?”

With his arm around his shoulders, McCree’s fingers stretch to tap against the edge of the visor. He knows that Genji is grinning under there, pleased like the cat who caught the canary. “When I was a child, they were always playing in the cinema. My father enjoyed them, and I joined him numerous times.”

There’s that classic sucker punch to his gut, of catching Genji reliving some part of his former life. Or revealing background, information, even as they were getting to that point of knowing so much about each other, and not really enough at all. Files and data were just numbers and words, of summing up their lives before Overwatch, and those years in between, from then to now were just shrugged and forgotten. McCree still wasn’t sure about protocol, of whether it was his turn to share about his own father, of his own gang activities. No one had ever sat him down, and told him how this sort of thing worked. He was going in blind, and it was honestly frightening, to be so far in the unknown. 

Genji slips an arm around him too, pressing in closer. And just like that, McCree is sure he doesn’t need to divulge any dark secrets, at least not for now. “Find anybody… _good looking_?” For good measure, he leers, tipping them back a bit. Under his hand, he can feel the way Genji’s metal spine curves, shifting him into an almost arch, that dredges up all kinds of memories, making him forget the minutes before.

“Of course,” Genji replies, tone clipped and factual, something that definitely has McCree grin. “But you’re _far_ more attractive, Jesse.”

One day, McCree would be the one getting the jump on Genji. But it wouldn’t be that day today, and his “Thank you, darling,” is a little startled, at the outright admission. Genji chortles, and slips from his grasp so easily McCree doesn’t realise he’s gone until Hana has returned. 

Returning to his perch atop the mecha, Genji offers to take first watch. McCree was sure that he winked, especially with how his head tilted just so, once again. Shaking his head, McCree settles on the other side of the room, with a good view of the window, and smiles. He’s sure he feels a brush against his cheek, but it could have been a trick of the light. No matter what, the spot is warm, and touching it gently, McCree knows.

**Author's Note:**

> they are watching the good the bad and the ugly bc mccree makes me think of clint eastwood lmao bye


End file.
